


Rapture

by LadyVegeets



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), Dragon Ball
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bioshock - Freeform, Cyber Punk, F/M, Horror, Vegebul, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 04:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16211696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyVegeets/pseuds/LadyVegeets
Summary: I am Frieza, and I'm here to ask you a question. Are you not entitled to the sweat of your brow? "No," say they, "it belongs to your people and your planet.” I rejected this answer; instead, I chose something different. I chose the future. I chose… Rapture. A satellite city where the scientist would not be bound by petty morality; where the great warrior would not be constrained by the weak! And with the sweat of your brow, Rapture can become your city as well.-A Bioshock inspired Vegebul AU





	Rapture

 

“Security alert is in progress. Access is limited for the time being. Frieza Futuristics appreciates your patience.”

The crackle of the announcement over the city’s intercom was met with little fanfare. Another security alert, another day in Rapture. Vegeta grimaced and waited to see if his services would be called upon. No doubt it was Splicers. It was _always_ Splicers, squabbling over tech implants or a hit of stardust. Not that they had much else to do; there was precious little for entertainment on this godsforsaken shit-hole.

A holographic map flickered to life on his corneal scouter, displaying a marker at the edge of his district. Instructions: neutralize disturbance.

Vegeta let out a long sigh, lingering a moment longer by the giant floor-to-ceiling window that afforded him a rare view of outside: space. It was one of the few places not splashed with Frieza Futuristic logos or holographic lighting. Just an endless scape of glittering galaxies that he would never have the chance of knowing.

He let his gloved fingers glide down the glass and turned away, heading towards the disturbance, wandering the closed-in passages of Rapture’s western district. The longer he took, the higher the chance that the Splicers would kill each other before he got there and save him the trouble. Once, a very long time ago, he found it amusing to squash the life out of these creatures but there was no joy in it now. He was a warrior, not fucking pest-control. What satisfaction, what _pride_ could a man get from killing an ant?

This is not what he had signed up for.

Great battles. That is what he had been promised, not menial labor. When was the last time he had even been in a real fight? His memories were so faded now they broke apart like old parchment. The taste of un-recycled oxygen, the feeling of an opponent’s blood pulsing over his hands, the heat of two suns burning through a planet’s atmosphere and onto his skin… Vegeta wondered if these things had ever existed at all. Perhaps he dreamed them up in a fever to alleviate the mind-numbing monotony of his existence, to soothe the pain of waking up in this place that killed his spirit a little more each day.

With a shake of his head Vegeta shut down such thoughts. There was no place for it here. Nostalgia was a cancer, it would eat away what remained of one’s sanity. He had seen it happen, had put down his own kind driven mad because of it.

He moved into a suburban sector, security bots and automatic doors allowed him through unimpeded. Red paper lanterns hung over the walkways, a quaint contrast against the cold metal buildings and colder holo-lights. Floating overhead in holographic text read: Rapture, Satellite City of the Future. As if any of them could forget where they were.

A few of the city’s wealthier inhabitants crossed his path. They were of an alien species he wasn’t familiar with, well dressed and only moderately spliced. They took one look his way before lowering their gaze and giving him a wide berth. Vegeta continued on, paying them no more attention.

Something groaned up ahead, long and sonorous.

It was one of the lumbering beasts of Rapture. Frieza’s dogs, Rapture’s guardians: a Big Daddy. The giant bi-pedal monstrosity was huge, its helmet adorned with yellow lights nearly scraping the ceiling, and its broad armored shoulders almost touching the walls of the corridors. It was twice the size of most inhabitants and (as Vegeta knew) damn near impossible to kill. Its right arm sported a massive drill that could skewer even the most teched-up Splicer.

It approached a vent in the wall. Vegeta kept walking, but his feet slowed as he watched the metal beast raise its fist and pound on the wall, issuing another eerie bellow.

A few seconds later something emerged from the vent. She was young, not a child but not quite an adult. Tiny for her age. Some would call her delicate, Vegeta called it malnourished. But her slender size allowed her to crawl about the vents where others could not. It gave her an elfin-like quality, other-worldly, as did her unusually pale skin and the bluish bioluminescence light she radiated. Her large green eyes glowed in an unsettlingly soulless manner.

Vegeta felt his skin prickle and repressed a shiver.

She smiled at the Big Daddy, and the yellow lights on its helmet turned green in friendly greeting. It helped her from the vent and placed her gently on the floor. She wore a thin white t-shirt and fawn overalls, the standard uniform of the Little Ginnies, Rapture’s tiny engineers.

Vegeta glanced around warily. Where there was a Ginnie, trouble wouldn’t be far away. So far he was the only one to have noticed them. That, or the Big Daddy’s presence was enough to keep any hostiles at bay.

The young woman beamed at the metal beast with all the affection of a daughter for a beloved father. “Good morning, Daddy.”

The Big Daddy made a cheerful sound and lowered to one knee before her. It unfurled its massive hand to reveal a tiny green bow.

The Ginnie squealed in delight, clapping her hands before grabbing up the gift. “Oh thank you, thank you!” She clipped the bow to her blond hair before throwing herself at her metal guardian in a hug. “I love it!”

The Big Daddy slowly enveloped her with its massive paw, returning the hug while trying not to crush her.

Vegeta’s lip curled, his mouth souring as he watched the unnatural display. It disgusted him the way Big Daddies bonded to the girls, allowing themselves to become little better than overgrown babysitters. They were lured in by the girls’ stardust like sailors to a siren’s song, their freewill crashing upon the rocks of the Ginnies’ whims. All that strength and potential turned into mindless drones. It was abhorrent.

“C’mon, Daddy, let’s go find some treasure!”

The girl skipped off while the Big Daddy lumbered behind her, an obedient pet.

“A Rapture reminder: The Big Daddies have no interest in you. DO NOT interfere with their work, especially if they are with a Little Ginnie.”

Vegeta took the announcement to heart and picked up his pace, keen to put distance between himself and the creepy pair. As he exited the suburb he heard bloodcurdling screams and metallic shrieks from where his marker indicated the disturbance was.

It was a plaza, but right now anyone would be forgiven for mistaking it with an abattoir. Dozens of bodies littered the ground, blood of various colors sprayed everywhere. He spotted a broken security bot on the ground, likely the cause of the alarm.

Three figures stood at the center the carnage, one of them clutching a cybernetic arm that dripped yellow blood, presumably ripped off the poor sap still alive on the ground.

“Shit. Security’s here.”

Three heads turned to look at him. Fucking Splicers. Each of them were a hideous mis-match of alien flesh and cybernetic modifications. The one in the middle was the worst, spliced so severely that his race was no longer distinguishable, more than half his body a collection of metal and wiring. Pus oozed down his skin where his body struggled to accept the excessive modifications.

“Oh we’re fucked, _we’re fucked_ —” the Splicer on the far left started panicking.

“Shut up!”

“I told you not to attack the bot. Dinnit I tell you not to attack it?”

Vegeta said nothing, letting them argue amongst themselves while he looked around for traps and weighed his options. All three of them had the shakes. Stardust junkies. Not surprising given how much they were spliced. That would make them unpredictable. He would need to be careful, especially if they had any—

_Thunk!_

Something smacked him hard in the head. He staggered back with a snarl. One of them had thrown the broken security bot at him and was now laughing hysterically.

“Heads up!”

The other two grew pale and backed away.

Vegeta saw red.

It didn’t take long. Their pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. For all their modifications, Vegeta made quick work of shoving his arm through their bellies and crushing their heads until they popped like overripe fruit. When the screams stopped and everything was reduced to twitching piles of flesh, he let his rage dissipate and assessed the damage. Everyone was dead, even the poor bastard the Splicers had been carving up. An unfortunate casualty. No matter. Better dead than a cripple in Rapture.

The intercom crackled to life. “Security alert deactivated. Frieza Futuristics thanks you for your patience.”

There was no relief or satisfaction when his scouter’s status changed to ‘neutralized’ and the marker on his map disappeared. It would only be a matter of time before the next. Another security alert, another fucking day in Rapture.

He started collecting body parts. Technology was king in Rapture. Those who had it lived to see another day. As he nudged aside a severed torso, a jolt of pain lanced up his right arm. Fuck. He had been careless, let his anger get the best of him and now he was injured. That would require attention. Any weakness here was a one-way ticket to a quick death.

He finished gathering the last of the cybernetic parts then left the carnage behind. An old holographic poster flickered off and on as he passed, displaying a proud Big Daddy and a Little Ginnie holding hands. He didn’t need to read it to know what it said. The posters were everywhere, the motto long ingrained. _Engineered to Build a Better Rapture._

What a joke.

Rounding a corner, movement caught his eye and he stopped. People scattered in his wake like cockroaches fleeing from the light. His mouth twisted bitterly when he saw what they had been swarming over.

A dead Ginnie. Blond, with a little green bow in her hair. The blood that pooled beneath her still glowed faintly with stardust as it cooled. Only feet away, her Big Daddy slumped against the wall — headless — its arm outstretched towards her.

He couldn’t stop staring at the severed neck. Something cold and black swelled inside him, bubbling up thick and indignant at rattling at a cage. No way a Splicer attack had beheaded the Daddy. Their armor was too powerful. State of the art. There could be only one explanation. The stupid bastard had taken off its own helmet.

And he knew why.

The bond between Big Daddies and Little Ginnies often became… obsessive. Co-dependent. So much so that the Daddy’s would risk life and limb for their little charges. Would even go so far as to take off their helmets to speak to their girls despite the massive risk. In this case, a fatal one.

And now it was dead and for what? To whisper sweet nothings in the ear of a creature far weaker than it, one biologically engineered to manipulate the Daddies to their will? What a stupid senseless waste.

Something caught his peripheral vision and Vegeta looked to his left. Curious glowing eyes peeped out of a vent, watching him. His skin crawled and his fists balled, despite the pain in his right hand.

The girl’s eyes drifted to the dead Big Daddy and Little Ginnie, then back to him as she shrunk away. “Scary.”

Oh, she didn’t know the meaning of the word. Not yet. Vegeta glared at her with every loathing atom of his being, before he came to a decision. He dropped the spare parts he was carrying and slid them across the floor to rest in a bloody pile between them. A carefully placed trap for a timid little mouse.

The Ginnie considered the mess, her glowing fingers curling over the edge of the vent like pale spider legs. Finally she wriggled out, her bare feet landing lightly on the floor. She looked nervously around before stepping closer towards the pile. Almost within arm’s reach.

“A Rapture reminder: any citizen found within fifty meters of a Little Ginnie will be subject to security action.”

Vegeta’s fingers twitched but he stayed still. The girl came closer and squatted by the remains, picking through them until she came across the cybernetic arm. She picked it up with a delighted squeal, hugging the bloody limb to her chest like a child would a doll. She beamed up at him. “Thank you for the treasure, Daddy. Shall I fix you now?”

Vegeta grunted and lowered his massive armored body to the ground. He let the Ginnie work on his broken drill arm, keeping his head turned so as not to have to look at her, keeping an eye out for anyone stupid enough to attack a Big Daddy mid-repair.

 

* * *

**~xoXox~**

* * *

 

 **AN:** dun dun DUN!!

Most of Rapture’s announcements are modified quotes from the actual Bioshock games.

Let me know what you think ^_^

 


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